


Could You Be a Good Lover

by salvadore



Series: Golden Hour [2]
Category: Batman: Arkham (Video Games), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Everyone Thinks They're Together, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Unresolved Romantic Tension, jaydick-flashfic: rumors and reputations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-12 23:40:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18457016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salvadore/pseuds/salvadore
Summary: "Are you watching Good Morning Gotham?” Dick asks.“Metropolis Today,” Jason replies past the tight, burning in his throat.(Sequel toGhosts)





	Could You Be a Good Lover

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to my previous fic in the AK universe - [Ghosts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15796074). I would recommend reading that one first. For clarification, however, here is a short reminder of Dick's tattoo: _the image of an open hand, raised as if in surrender to the dagger poised above it. Simple black ink, and the words "A Good Son" below it._ Title inspired by the Blood Orange song "You're Never Good Enough" (which has been stuck in my head as I edited this.)
> 
> Thank you so much to Empires and Volavi for beta reading this.

_“Good morning, Metropolis,”_ Angela Chen greets from a studio space. The Metropolis skyline spreads out behind her, the Daily Planet too iconic to avoid even if they’re her station's direct competition _. “Welcome back to your Monday morning broadcasting. Joining us in studio today is Vicki Vale.”_

Michael Auerbach, Angela’s co-host on Metropolis Today, smiles along, raising his mug with the bright blues of the Metropolis Today logo for a sip. The camera pans across the couch, and there’s Vicki Vale.

 _“Thank you so much for the introduction, Angela,”_ she says. _“I’m excited to be here.”_

Michael speaks. _“Thanks for being with us this morning to catch us up on the latest Gotham Gossip!”_

 _“After last year’s revelations surrounding Arkham and the Batman, I think calling anything about the Waynes merely gossip would underestimate them.”_ Her smile bright even as she says it. The studio make-up artist has tried to make her look soft but there’s no hiding that Vicki Vale is sharp. _“Don’t you agree?”_ she asks. Belying her tone. But for a second there was the journalist who has wrangled more answers out of Lex Luthor and Bruce Wayne than any other.

_“Oh? But aren’t we here to talk about Richard Wayne’s love life?”_

_“Potentially.”_ VIcki smirks as she says it, as if they’re all in on a joke the viewer is just moments from being letting in on. _“Certainly my reporting of his comings-and-goings from Bludhaven lately sparked the topic. And brought some new mysteries out of the woodwork.”_

 _“And the viral success of your reporting!”_ Angela claps her hands together. _“Tell us all about this mystery man caught outside his apartment building. Do you think he’s a boyfriend, or a bodyguard?”_

 _“Perhaps his tattoo artist?”_ Michael chimes in.

_“I’ve never heard of a tattoo artist making a house call.”_

_“Certainly Richie Wayne could afford that sort of house call service._ ”

They all laugh.

 _“Well, you know I spoke to the photographer he accosted,”_ Vicki says. _“And to hear his side, the man in question got real hot under the collar at being photographed. Unless he’s ex-Secret Service, there are few people who wouldn’t benefit from that sort of public exposure,”_ in conjunction with her viral success goes implied. _“Certainly a tattoo artist would want that, NDA or no.”_

Vale has this look in her eye, a familiar sparkle as she steers the conversation toward the implications of a sordid affair. It guarantees more speculation.

But Jason isn’t listening anymore. While the hosts were laughing, a picture had appeared on the screen that left his ears ringing. It’s not clear who it’s of - not unless you already know, and the ringing gets louder in Jason’s ears - but it is of a large figure leaving the apartment building. Dick’s apartments; head down, hands shoved in their pockets as they exit under the veranda. It’s low enough quality that Jason is willing to bet the paparazzi took it with his cell phone before switching to his digital camera for clearer images. Jason had only made him erase the latter.

“Are you listening to me, Jay?” Dick’s voice asks. Jason had called him on a burner after rushing back to his safe house. His hands had been shaking since he rushed back from the shop - groceries and cigarettes forgotten in his surprise. That same blurry photo had been staring up at him from the front page of the Gotham Inquirer.

“Are you watching Good Morning Gotham?” Dick asks.  He sounds tired, voice low and almost hoarse. There’s a long silence on the line. Jason wants to say something cutting. Explain how he can’t believe he’s been dragged into this. Put the blame on Dick somehow.

It feels like bile is rising in his throat.

“Metropolis Today,” Jason replies past the tight, burning in his throat. He mutes the show just as they start to run Vale’s interview with the photographer. Jason can’t believe he’d ever thought he could live a normal life. His scar burns on his cheek, a ghost feeling from when the brand was made. The memory more fresh than the feel of calm that had come over him when he had left Dick’s apartment. Remind him how foolish it was to ever think he was someone Dick Grayson could be seen with.

“You should come over,” Dick finally says. “So we can talk.”

 

* * *

 

Jason wants to go off the grid. He wants to wait for the whole story to blow over.

Behind his closed eyes he can see the look on Dick’s face when he suggested as much. It was a flash of hurt so quick he might have missed it. Jason wished he had.

At his back, the interview between Vale and the paparazzi is playing muted on the TV. The man was emphatically talking, last Jason had looked. Vale had been nodding along, looking as satisfied as she had been on Metropolis Today. She should be. This is the third gossip program to rerun the interview that evening. Jason had muted it as soon as he entered the room. He doesn’t need to listen to it to know they were spinning the story out of his control.

Jason leans his head back, resists clasping his hands over his knees, resists any nervous gesture so Dick doesn’t have any body language to read. Jason’s behavior when he arrived had already given too much away. His attempt at a cool demeanor falling apart at the state of the apartment; exactly as he had left it - left Dick - just days ago. The coffee table is covered in folders and detris. Dick looked exhausted and soft with sleep. The shapes impressed into his cheek told Jason that he’d been asleep on the couch until Jason had broken in.

They’re back here again, and it’s too soon to find himself standing in the same spot in Dick’s apartment, having Dick stare up at him. Jason hadn’t been able to stand the deja vu. He had shoved papers and folders over on the coffee table to make room to sit. So he could properly stare at Dick has he spun his stupid plan.

Jason opens his eyes. The hurt is gone. Now Dick’s brow is pinched and he’s frowning as he stares Jason down.

“Pretending you’re Richard’s boyfriend is the easiest plan,” Dick says, breaking their stalemate of staring first. He rubs at his eyes carefully.  When he says, “We can break off a romance easier than an employment cover,” it’s with resignation. He sinks back against the couch, his shoulders rising up to his ears as he braces for Jason to argue some more. Even movement as small as that stretches the mottled across his ribs, causing him pain. Jason can tell by the way Dick’s fingers curl reflexively, even if he doesn’t make a sound.

“We can have a public break up if that’s what you want. It’s just a cover OP. Then it’ll blow over and you’ll be out,” Dick is saying.

Jason wants to protest. Any way they choose to react is going to need at least a preliminary paper trail. They can only blame so much on Joker’s years of terrorism on the city, and then at his and Scarecrow’s, when the need to know more about a blurry figure in one photo has caused this much attention. It would be easier to leave Vale to her own devices. Jason wants to say they should stay away from each other. He wants to make Dick look at him, look at the J burned into his skin, and remind Dick that he’s too memorable. But his mouth is so dry that the words die on his tongue.

Whatever Dick’s ulterior motives might be, he looks like he’s fraying at the ends and Jason doesn’t think he can walk out on Dick like this. Jason involuntarily aches, and it’s only been days but he thinks he should have visited earlier. He should have known better than abandon Dick to his old habits.

“Dick,” Jason says. Watches those bright blue eyes catch his. He’s going to get lines earlier if he keeps frowning. Jason wants to ask what Dick will get out of this. If he says yes.

He reaches out, careful to make sure Dick can see him move, and stop Jason if he wants to. Jason leans forward and ghosts a touch along the sharp line of Dick’s jaw. He watches as the frown disappears in a moment of surprise and the fluttering of long, dark eyelashes against the sleep bruised skin under Dick’s eyes.

Dick turns his cheek into the touch, his warm cheek pressing against Jason’s cold fingertips. When his lips part, Jason can feel them brush against the palm of his hand.

Dick says, “Come with me to the Wayne Gala,” and he wraps his fingers around Jason’s wrist. Holds Jason still, touch pressing over his pulse point in a neat trick that Dick taught Jason once. A lifetime ago when Robin was brand new, and still magic for Jason.

Jason had forgone the Arkham Knight suit just in case there was anyone keeping an eye on the building.  Now he wishes he hadn’t. He feels too vulnerable without it.

The grip around his wrist pulls him closer. Dick must feel the way Jason’s heart is racing, but still Dick doesn’t open his eyes. And Jason looks at him, hair curling long down the back of his neck. The worn, gray sweater-shirt that say Gotham Knight on it, another relic of before the Joker. When the Wayne mansion had done it’s best to be a second chance.

Jason’s tongue is too heavy with things unsaid to ask what he needs to. To press Dick on what he wants. Why he keeps letting Jason in, inviting him back to a sense of safety, after everything he’d done.

And that damned tattoo peers up at Jason, mocking him, from where Dick pushed up his sleeves. The supplicant hand open and accepting the bite of the knife poised above it.

Jason is the knife. But maybe he’s tired of cutting the people reaching out to touch him.

Gently, he brushes the hair from Dick’s brow, and leans a breath closer. Presses his lips to Dick’s forehead.

“We’ll try it your way, Boy Wonder.”


End file.
